


What Happened In Vegas

by Emelye



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Ineffable Honeymoon, Kid Fic, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emelye/pseuds/Emelye
Summary: There are no baby angels or demons to speak of. They are born fully formed, able to speak, and with a basic knowledge of their purpose, role and abilities. They spawn, for lack of a better word, in Heaven (or Hell as the case may be) often near where they were conceived. This is not always the case, as they are metaphysically nurtured by both beings through general proximity.Crowley and Aziraphale found their glowing bundle of joy near the wardrobe behind a stack of bibles not yet sorted and catalogued from a shipment Aziraphale received in 1953.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 75





	What Happened In Vegas

The cravings were ultimately what tipped them off, but there were certainly other signs that Aziraphale and Crowley had made a baby, in a manner of speaking.

Mood swings, for one. Also the nesting instinct that had carpeted the entire second floor of the bookshop in black and white feathers.

But mostly it was the cravings.

“Do you know what I could _really_ go for right now?” asked Aziraphale one night as he propped up one end of the backroom sofa, carding fingers through the head of red hair in his lap.

“Bacon butty?”

“ _Manna_. Can’t remember the last time I had any.”

Crowley tilted his head back to see if Aziraphale was mugging for his benefit or giving some other indication this was a joke. There was none. “That’s because it doesn’t taste like anything, angel. Communion wafers have more flavor.”

“Yes, but there’s a certain...something. Oh, I don’t know. I’m just being silly, I suppose. And how would you know what a Host tastes like? I would think they would be quite indigestible for you.”

Crowely smirked. “Came by a shipment of them gone astray once in the eighties. Little neufchâtel, few sprigs of chive, makes a decent canape, actually. Served them at a soiree I hosted for a group of venture capitalists. That was my decade done and dusted as far as Hell was concerned.”

Aziraphale was reluctantly impressed. His fingers advanced to playing with Crowley’s wings and Crowley quite understandably forgot all about Aziraphale’s odd craving for manna until the next time they went out and Aziraphale had seemed to have misplaced his appetite.

“I don’t understand it!” he cried, quite beside himself. “This isn’t like me _at all_!”

They were walking home from the Ritz at a clip and for once Crowley struggled to keep pace beside the fretting angel. “I know, angel. I’ve seen you bring waiters to their knees.”

“You don’t suppose I’m getting _ill_ do you?”

Crowley’s face did something complicated while he warred between twin instincts to treat that sentiment with the contempt it deserved while still working himself up into a panic over the idea of Aziraphale being sick in any way.

He’d only just settled on a confused frown when they reached the bookshop. Once inside he nearly missed Aziraphale casually drawing down power and manifesting a chunk of manna into his hand. His husband took a bite absently while continuing to worry the problem. “Let’s look at this logically. I haven’t eaten since Tuesday. I don’t think I’ve noticed any other symptoms but some maladies are subtle like that.” Aziraphale reached his unoccupied hand into the liminal space where his wings were itching and scratched out a couple of loose feathers which he absently sent in the direction of the upstairs bedroom. “Do you want me to open a bottle dear?”

Crowley shook his head. “Don’t trouble yourself.” A snap later and there was a goblet of hot sulfur in his hand. He inhaled the fumes deeply before taking a fortifying sip. “Don’t suppose angels get stomach cancers anyway.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I should say not. And anyway, I think I would know fairly quickly if this corporation had begun to grow something internally.”

Something about Aziraphale’s phrasing caught Crowley’s attention. “But what about externally?”

“Externally? Whatever do you...OH _NO_.”

They explained it to Anathema like this:

“When two celestial or occult beings love each other very much, they share a special embrace, and then a new angel or demon is born.”

Anathema gave Aziraphale a very old look and drawled, “I do know what sex is. You don’t need to be so coy about it.”

Aziraphale took a sip of his tea as Crowley shook his head. “He’s not being delicate. That’s literally how it works. Love, a metaphysical embrace, and a new angel eventually comes into being. Demons are basically the same, only love is generally discouraged.”

“But you…”

Crowley glared at Anathema, while Aziraphale beamed with happiness. “Oh, _yes_. Quite a lot of love,” Aziraphale confirmed.

For Aziraphale and Crowley, that metaphysical embrace, as well as a great deal of physical embraces of all types, took place in the penthouse suite of a prominent hotel and casino on the Las Vegas strip while on honeymoon.

There are no baby angels or demons to speak of. They are born fully formed, able to speak, and with a basic knowledge of their purpose, role and abilities. They spawn, for lack of a better word, in Heaven (or Hell as the case may be) often near where they were conceived. This is not always the case, as they are metaphysically nurtured by both beings through general proximity.

Crowley and Aziraphale found their glowing bundle of joy near the wardrobe behind a stack of bibles not yet sorted and catalogued from a shipment Aziraphale received in 1953.

At this stage in development it was little more than a glowing orb about eight inches in diameter and hovering three feet above the ground bobbing gently on the air currents. It emitted a low hum not unlike the buzz of a power line.

“Oh, they’re _beautiful_ ,” said Aziraphale. 

Crowley beamed with pride and threw an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “They’ve got my eyes! And your eyes!”

“Well not all of them yet, certainly, but it does look like they’ve got a good start on them, doesn’t it?”

“What do you reckon? Principality? Throne?”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s been a Throne in my line for generations, but I do confess, I’ve always hoped...but aren’t we getting a bit ahead of ourselves? We don’t know for certain our offspring will be strictly angelic.”

“That’s true. Could have an imp on our hands.”

“Well that seems unlikely. Weren’t you a Power of some sort in Heaven?”

Crowley shrugged. “Something like that. Most of my line were in the upper third or lower second.”

“Well there you are! They could be a Duke or Prince of Hell!”

“Ehhh,” said Crowley. “Not really getting an evil vibe from them, if I’m honest.”

“It’s just as well,” said Aziraphale, cooing over the humming ball of light. “Hell certainly won’t be getting their hands on the little dear.”

“Nor Heaven, if I have anything to say about it.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were a bit sad as he nodded in agreement. “I should say not.”

Their wedding was quite old fashioned. Both Aziraphale and Crowley manifested rings for one another, declared themselves wed, and then took themselves off to bed for the better part of a week. By mutual agreement, however, the honeymoon was to be a distinctly modern affair. 

They arrived in Las Vegas by chartered jet, sparing their metaphysical energy for other endeavors. Crowley appeared on the runway in his usual stylish black ensemble. Aziraphale, however, had thrown himself into the role of Angel of Leisure with abandon, wearing a short sleeved Hawaiian shirt over Bermuda shorts, knee socks and brown loafers. He wore a jaunty straw panama hat atop the whole ensemble. Aziraphale was a perfect anachronism, and Crowley was of the opinion he’d never looked lovelier.

They spent afternoons lounging poolside, drinking absurd cocktails with little umbrellas and generally enjoying one another’s company. Crowley took Aziraphale to see all the best magicians humanity had to offer, and Aziraphale surprised Crowley with a day trip to the Bonneville Salt Flats where his Bentley had been miraculously transported and the both of them discovered how it felt to break the sound barrier on land in century-old engineering. They did not discorporate, but both they and the car felt fairly breathless by the end.

Crowley was of the opinion that as honeymoons went, theirs might have been pretty good by most standards.

Aziraphale was a very adventurous lover. Crowley had never lain with anyone in the Biblical sense, nor in whatever sense it was that they had spent three hours fucking on the ceiling of their honeymoon suite, but he thought it was a safe assumption based on intuition and hearsay.

He’d never heard of anyone requesting a demon’s snake form, for example, nor doing some very exciting things with their mouth to that form that had Crowley speaking in demonic tongues that set the curtains ablaze across the room.

In three days, Crowley reckoned they’d had sex in just about every form known to mortal man, and a few they made up on the fly just for fun. Aziraphale was inventive, generous and, truth be told, a bit of a screamer. Crowley rather adored him for it. So it was hardly a surprise when one sunny afternoon by the pool, Aziraphale looked over the rims of his own dark glasses and suggested,

“Think you might be up for a bit of mingling later?”

Crowley spat out the fruity drink in his mouth and upset the umbrella in its coconut. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and set the drink to rights, drying off his pale, bare chest in the process. 

“Like, angelic mingling or the drinks thing on the concierge level of the hotel mingling?”

Aziraphale smirked a little wickedly. “Not sure one can call it _angelic_ mingling if the only angel in question is mingling forms with a demon.”

Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat. “Bit of a risk, isn’t it angel?”

Aziraphale waved airily in Crowley’s direction. “Your corporation had no issue when I was in it. I’m sure I felt your form in passing when we switched.”

“Right,” said Crowley, taking a large gulp of rum. “Let’s try it then.”

Aziraphale smiled and replaced his shades, taking a long drink of his own umbrella-bedecked cocktail. “Splendid.”

Crowley had thought the salt flats were miraculous, that the feeling of speed behind the wheel of the Bentley was as close to flying among the stars as could be achieved on earth.

He was wrong. 

When they breathlessly returned to the suite Aziraphale’s hands were all over him, stripping his clothes and caressing every inch of skin they found. Crowley’s lips met Aziraphale’s, and he nipped and licked his way into his angel’s mouth desperate for the taste of him.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale sighed. “Mingle with me.”

They fumbled their way to the bed, losing items of clothing as they went. Wrapped tightly in each other atop the bed, they slipped their earthly vessels and the bonds of time and space.

Though neither of them had ever mingled before, it was part of the knowledge intrinsic to their kind. What was not imparted to them at their creation was how bloody _incredible_ it felt.

Crowley’s true form was fairly swirly, if one had to put a name to it, whereas Aziraphale was a lot of shards of light reflecting out of a glowing center. Or maybe he had a lot of eyes and a flaming sword, except when he was glowing shards of light. 

Descriptions were very difficult in these forms as they were mostly incomprehensible multidimensional beings of pure thought.

_Damn sexy thoughts_ , thought Crowley, taking in Aziraphale’s form through senses not available to him on the earthly plane.

When they touched in these forms, on this ethereal plane, it was rather like the full body orgasm heroin promised and never quite delivered, Crowley decided. 

Aziraphale laughed, or it’s general equivalent, at the idea. _Rather like being electrocuted, but pleasantly_ , he added.

Then their forms merged and neither thought much of anything at all for a while as the sensation was quite overwhelming.

When they returned to their forms, they were a bit shaken by the experience. Though their corporations had been resting comfortably the entire time, they were panting with exertion, shaking slightly and damp with perspiration. Neither could quite get close enough to the other in the immediate aftermath, they found, and so more lovemaking seemed the natural progression of events for the following twelve hours or so. 

The rest, as they say, was history.

Several days after discovering their little darling, Aziraphale noticed something. 

“Crowley,” he asked. “How many wings do you have?”

“Pardon?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Wings, Crowley, how many?”

Crowley came to see what he was fussing over. “Two, angel, same as you. Why? _Oh_.”

The little glowing orb had sprouted wings in the night, which was to be expected. Six of them, to be precise, which was less expected.

“Bit of an overachiever already,” Aziraphale quipped.

“ _Overachiever_. She’s a bloody Seraph!”

“They, dearest.”

“No, I know, I know. Just always think of Seraphs as female.”

“Seems a bit odd.”

Crowley shrugged. “Just a...thing I have. Principalities have always seemed male to me. Cherubs, too. Gender other things, too, not just angels. Bit of a… what do you call it? Seeing sounds and whatnot…”

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“I’m not trying to misgender the sprite, is all I’m saying. Look, do you remember Babel?”

“Wasn’t one of mine,” said Aziraphale.

“Well that’s because it was one of mine,” said Crowley. “Heard about this impressive tower, thought I’d go have a look, see if it was anything I could take credit for, you know the drill. Anyway, the locals were friendly and made this _absolutely incredible_ fig wine. _Really_ strong stuff. I was having a bad night, think I may have been missing you a bit, got in my cups and I _swear_ I don’t remember cursing the tower, but next thing I knew no one could understand each other. I can understand them all perfectly, of course, and half of them are gendering the furniture! Bloody fig wine, I tell you.”

“Did you mean synesthesia?”

“That’s it!”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Only you, my dear.”

“That may be, but more to the point what are we going to do about our little genderless angel of the first sphere? You ever _meet_ a Seraph?”

“Once,” said Aziraphale.

“I knew a few back in the old days. Bloody odd bunch. Are we sure they’re even going to want to stay here?”

Aziraphale looked stricken. “Why wouldn’t they want to stay here?”

Crowley immediately regretted opening his mouth. “I just meant that they aren’t usually involved with humanity the way your lot are. And I don’t know if a standard corporation will even fit all...” he gestured to the somewhat larger hovering ball of wings and eyes and fire. “That.”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t even thought about a corporation. What are we going to do?” Aziraphale looked dangerously close to tears. 

“They don’t need one,” said Crowley. “They’re perfect just the way they are.”

“Of course, darling, but we can’t let them out of the shop without one. You know how humans feel about that sort of thing. And I would so like to take them on outings.”

Crowley made a complicated noise. “Suppose we could sort of...Frankenstein something together?”

Aziraphale looked horrified. “We’re not dressing them in _corpse parts_ , Crowley! It’s out of the question!”

“So what do we do? Steal one from the quartermaster?”

“It’s not a terrible idea.”

“It’s a _horrible_ idea! What if we get caught? What if they get caught? What do you suppose they’ll do to a half demonic, half angelic Seraph?”

“They’d have to get through me first.”

“That’s not the point, angel.”

“Well honestly, what _could_ they do? If they’re really a Seraph they outrank everyone but God! I don’t see an alternative, Crowley. They may be a Seraph, but they’re still ours and they just wouldn’t be at _home_ in either Heaven or Hell. They need a body to stay here with us.”

Crowley groaned. “FINE. _Fine_. Fine. This is a terrible idea, but fine.”

Days passed. The little spherical angel grew larger and larger until one afternoon as they lounged in the back room of the shop, they heard a loud crash from the upstairs near the wardrobe.

“Guess it’s time?” asked Crowley.

Aziraphale and Crowley raced one another for the stairs. In the middle of the room hovered a shining, burning figure with six wings and lots of eyes.

“Oh, my dear, aren’t you beautiful,” said Aziraphale in hushed tones.

Crowley wrapped an arm around Aziraphale and beamed at the new angel. “What’s your name, love?”

The Seraph appeared to consider that for a moment. “Yes, that will do.”

“I’m sorry?” asked Aziraphale.

“It is nice to meet you Sorry.”

“No, he’s Aziraphale. I’m Crowley. He asked your name, love.”

“Yes.”

“Pardon?”

“But you’ve done nothing wrong,” said the angel.

Aziraphale blinked. “I’m starting to see what you meant, Crowley.”

“I am Love.”

“Oh,” said Crowley. “It’s an expression, like dear, or pet—”

“Or angel,” Aziraphale provided, helpfully. 

“I understand, dear. My name is Love.”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at one another and shrugged. “Makes as much sense as anything, I suppose,” said Crowley. “Welcome to the family, Love.”

Love smiled. “Thank you. Where are we?”

“My bookshop,” announced Aziraphale proudly. 

“Are you a bookseller, Aziraphale?”

Crowley made a noise and Aziraphale silenced him with an elbow to his ribs. “Sometimes. I’m also a Principality. I look after the humans, and I try to preserve some of their ideas through their writings.”

“You love them,” stated Love.

“Very much,” agreed Aziraphale.

“I love them too,” announced Love.

“Glad to hear it,” said Crowley.

“You are a demon, but you’re not very evil.”

“Well spotted.”

“Will you be upset if I’m not evil?”

“Ehhh, not really. I love Aziraphale more than anything and there’s not an evil bone in his body.”

“But he is not very good, either.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Now, that’s uncalled for,” Crowley scolded. “There’s nothing bad about Aziraphale, _at all_. Sure he can be a bit of a bastard when he likes, and a touch covetous about those rare first editions, and maybe a little gluttonous from time to time…”

“I’m blushing,” deadpanned Aziraphale. “Your point is taken, my dear. Neither Crowley nor I are paragons of our kind. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you greatly.”

Love smiled. “I love you both very much.”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley went a bit soft at that.

“We love you too, dear. Now, there’s been some discussion about finding a corporation for you. We thought perhaps we might try to find one in Heaven. What are your thoughts?” asked Aziraphale.

“We should go to Heaven. I have questions,” said Love.

Crowley dissembled. “Ahhh, I think we were only planning a brief visit. Ideally without anyone knowing we were there.”

Love tilted their head in confusion. “You’re planning a subterfuge because you are a demon?”

“Ehh, more because they tried to execute Aziraphale not that long ago.”

Love’s wings extended fully and their luminescence flared with anger though their expression remained placid. “I will not allow that to happen.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m not sure—”

“Be not afraid,” said Love.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look. 

“Through the front door?” asked Crowley.

Love nodded. 

“Who is it you’d like to speak to?” Aziraphale asked.

“God,” said Love. 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale with deceptive calm.

“Is God taking meetings?” asked Crowley, nonplussed.

Love laughed. “Of course. My place is at Her side.”

“Oh, dear,” said Aziraphale. At once Crowley knew Aziraphale realized the truth of that statement, as did he. Seraphim didn’t usually leave the Throne Room. All their plans, all their hopes of introducing a new angel to all that they loved in the world, might be for naught.

Love’s wing brushed Aziraphale’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “But She is omnipresent. So if She can be everywhere, so can I. And I would like to stay with you.”

Several hours later Aziraphale was tying his bowtie when Crowley called out from behind the bathroom door. “Are we certain this is a good idea? I mean, I obviously wasn’t very good at this to begin with.” There were several grunts and a sigh. “Right. Okay. Serious celestial business. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

Aziraphale was stunned. Crowley was always beautiful, but he’d never seen him in pale colors before. “Oh my. _Crowley_.”

Love had been adamant that they would go _together_ to meet with God, and by mutual agreement, both Crowley and Aziraphale thought it a good idea to brush up for the occasion. Crowley chose a long, white dress reminiscent of his angelic robes for the occasion and immediately regretted it. “I look stupid. This isn’t even my color. I’m not sure I wore this much white the last time I was in heaven.”

“We weren’t wearing anything the last time you were in heaven, dear. We didn’t have corporations.”

“Then why—”

“Aesthetics I suppose. You can change to a darker color if you’d rather. Perhaps you’ll start a fashion.”

“Ehh. Dunno. Think black would probably send the wrong message at this point. Not exactly playing for the other team anymore either, am I?”

“Hmm,” said Aziraphale. He considered his beloved carefully. “Here.”

As Crowley watched, an ombre pattern fading from black at the hem to shades of grey to white appeared on his dress. “Oh. Now that’s not bad.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah. What about you then? Still wearing the old uniform?”

Aziraphale fidgeted with his waistcoat. “Not exactly.” As Crowley watched, Aziraphale subtly changed his bowtie tartan to make the red stripe wider. His pristine, camel coat he changed to a dark, charcoal grey. “I’d say we match perfectly. What do you think?” asked Aziraphale.

The gesture was not lost on Crowley, who kissed him. “Handsome as always.”

Aziraphale gave a little wiggle. “Oh, good. I’m glad you approve. Are you sure this isn’t all...too much?”

Crowley flushed. “Love hasn’t cut ties the way we have. ‘S about setting a good example, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed Crowley’s arm. “Of course it is, dear. You’re right. I just don’t want them to ever think they should be any less or more than who they are.”

Crowley held his hand in his own. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think we’re representing our side very smartly.”

“You’re beautiful, my dear,” said Aziraphale, tucking Crowley’s hand into his elbow.

Crowley tossed his hair. “Then let’s get a move on. Sooner we get this over with, sooner we can take the family out somewhere nice.”

Getting an unincorporated Seraph through central London, unnoticed, took a bit of doing, but between Aziraphale’s discrete application of miracles and Crowley’s creative interpretation of motor vehicle regulations, they managed, and found the main entrance to Heaven was surprisingly unbarred to the two of them. They followed Love onto the escalator with no difficulty whatsoever which only served to make the both of them exceptionally nervous.

The last time Aziraphale had been in Heaven, he was being shouted at by the quartermaster after his inconvenient discorporation. 

The less said about Crowley’s last visit, the better.

The reception desk came into view, and though they couldn’t be said to be hiding behind Love, strictly speaking, they were more than happy to let the calm and confident Seraph lead the way.

Love did not stop to speak to the receptionist. Love didn’t seem to mind that the receptionist was now chasing after them having seen Aziraphale and Crowley with them. 

“Excuse me! Excuse me,” called the receptionist. “They’re not allowed in Heaven!”

Love turned and faced the poor angel in all their glory. “They are coming with me.”

The poor receptionist, a lower ranking angel of the third sphere trembled. “The Archangels won’t be happy.”

“Why?” asked Love.

“Be...because they banned Aziraphale?”

“How can one angel ban another angel from Heaven?” asked Love. “Did he fall?”

“N..no. But that one did!” 

Crowley shrugged. “It’s a fair cop.”

“Nevertheless, they are coming with me. They gave me my being and I am going to speak with God.”

The receptionist seemed completely at sea. “Right then,” they said. “Carry on.”

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale as they continued through the cavernous halls of Heaven. “Well that went well, I must say.”

“Love, have you given any thought to what you’re going to say to God when you get there?” asked Crowley.

“Not really,” said Love.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look and took each other’s hand. If they were about to face certain annihilation, thought Crowley, they may as well take comfort while they still could.

The throne room of God was located down a long hallway just past the vending machines. Love was _fascinated_ by the vending machines and completely oblivious to the angel and demon quietly having nervous breakdowns behind them. 

“Did you want something from the vending machines before we go in?” asked Aziraphale a touch desperately.

“What’re they going to get from a vending machine?” asked Crowley. “Got to have a corporation to eat most anything but—”

“Manna! Here you go, dear. Most of the other angels frown on eating so it’s mostly this or...actually I’m not sure _what_ these are for, typically.”

Love happily consumed the manna Aziraphale handed them.

“Reckon they give you whatever you want,” said Crowley. “Hell has a similar set up, only it’ll give you anything but the thing you ask for. Here. _Stapler. Ice Cream. Turtledove._ ”

One by one, the machine dispensed each item with a pleasant _ding_! Crowley handed the stapler to Love and the ice cream to Aziraphale. The dove flew away, which was for the best when he heard a sound like springs popping and saw Love trying to eat the stapler.

“Crunchy,” they said through an ethereal mouthful of plastic and aluminum.

“Spit that out!” shrieked Aziraphale.

“That can’t be good for you,” agreed Crowley, hurriedly miracling away the mess of lightly masticated office supplies.

Whatever Love’s intent, the momentary distraction seemed to have provided a suitable outlet for Crowley and Aziraphale’s nerves. They made their way down the hall to the Throne Room feeling significantly more buoyant. 

Suspiciously buoyant. 

Halfway down the corridor, Crowley turned and asked “Angel, where’d your body go?”

“Whatever are you talking abou—ahhh! Crowley! We’ve discorporated!” he said, looking down at his hands and finding them mostly not there.

“You left them back there,” said Love. “By the little door labeled ‘coat check’. They slipped off through the door when you weren’t looking.”

“Oh, that’s disconcerting. When did they put that in?” asked Crowley.

“I’ve no idea, I’ve never had reason to come to the Throne Room before,” said Aziraphale, aware that he was now babbling, but powerless to stop it. “All my reprimands were handled by Gabriel or Michael.”

The door loomed large before their swirly, burning, spiky figues. It swung open, or dissolved depending on the plane you observed it from. 

They drifted through, and caught sight of the other Seraphs first, hovering around the Throne.

The empty Throne.

A small click sounded somewhere to the left and they saw their Mother at last. 

Playing miniature golf.

“Oh! Good, you made it, Love! Any trouble getting here?” She asked, looking up from Her putter.

Love drifted toward Her. “No, Aziraphale and Crowley were very helpful.”

She beamed, quite literally. “I’m so glad to hear that. I assume you won’t be staying so I took the liberty of having a few corporations made up. Go ahead and pick whichever one you’d like,” She said, gesturing to an oversized wardrobe. 

“Thank you. May I ask a question?”

“Of course, dear, but I’d like a moment to chat with Aziraphale and Crowley, if you don’t mind.”

Love bobbed an agreement and began rifling through the empty corporations.

“Now,” She said. “Just so you know, I’m not going to tell anyone about the stunt you pulled and even if they did find out, I wouldn’t let any harm come to you. Just so we’re clear on that point. I would have intervened if the both of you hadn’t had everything well in hand.”

“Th...thank You,” said Aziraphale.

“Why?” asked Crowley. “I mean, Aziraphale, I get, sure, but why me? I’m nobody to You anymore.”

God smiled a bit sadly. “You’ve never been nobody to me, **[redacted]**.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “Was that your name?”

Crowley shuddered. “Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

God agreed. “No, you’re right. You’ve grown up. The both of you have. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I hope you both know I care about you both very much and you can always come to me if you need anything.”

“We will,” said Aziraphale. “Thank you. And you’re sure you’re okay with Love—”

“Living on Earth? Of course. You don’t think you’re the only two ethereal beings there, do you?”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at one another. “No?” said Aziraphale.

God laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret. You need to know this because you’re taking care of one now. Seraphs get bored easily. They’re a bit like herd dogs. If they don’t have something to do they tend to get restless and...things happen.”

“Things? What kind of things?” asked Crowley, alarmed.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” God reassured him. “But if you notice any black holes or pockets of dark matter developing in Love’s vicinity, it would be best that you let Me know right away.”

Aziraphale thought if he had been wearing his corporation, it might have fainted by now. “Is there something we can do to keep them active?”

“Walks?” offered Crowley. “Game of fetch in the park?”

“Well most of my Seraphs really enjoy working as restroom attendants. I actually created the job for them.”

“What?” said Aziraphale.

Crowley let out a sharp laugh. “You’re joking.”

“It’s true,” said God. “Have you ever _been_ inside a nightclub ladies’ room with a bunch of drunk young women?”

Aziraphale’s metaphysical jaw dropped. “Love. They’re full of love!”

“Precisely. The most concentrated pockets of unconditional love on Earth. Give them a few simple tasks, set them to guard the area, let them bask in the glow of all that distilled positivity and affection and you’ll have a _very_ happy Seraph.”

As if summoned, their own happy Seraph was awkwardly trotting over in their new corporation, a blond, muscular, androgynous model. “How do I look?” they asked. 

Aziraphale glowed with pride. “Oh very well chosen, my dear. It’s very you. Any pronouns you’d prefer?”

“No,” said Love easily. “Not right now.”

“Well that’s all right then,” said Crowley. “Ready to take it for a spin? Test it out?”

“I believe so, yes,” they said.

“Have fun,” said God. “Remember what I told you.”

“We will,” said Aziraphale. “Thank you. Oh! Didn’t you have a question, Love?”

God turned and looked attentively at the new Seraph.

Love shook their head. “No, not anymore. I feel that you love them.”

God smiled broadly. “Almost as much as you do maybe?”

Love’s smile was infectious. “Almost.”

Outside the Throne Room Crowley and Aziraphale retrieved their corporations. Love immediately took their hands with an exuberant expression and swung their arms as they walked back to the main entrance. Crowley and Aziraphale shared a fond look before they heard a familiar voice call out behind them.

“You can’t ask to be left alone then stroll back in here as if nothing happened,” proclaimed Gabriel. “Grab them,” he ordered the angels flanking him wearing twin looks of excited malice.

Before Crowley or Aziraphale had a chance to say a word in their own defense, Love released an explosion of power, knocking a group of nearby angels off their Segways and flattening Gabriel and his hench-angels against a wall. Love stormed forward, still incorporated but radiating power, authority and barely restrained violence.

“You will not _grab_ Aziraphale and Crowley.”

“Who are you? _What_ are you? Have we met?” asked Gabriel, panting and struggling to keep his feet.

“I am Love. I am a Seraph. And no, we have not met. I’ve only just begun.”

“That’s not possible, I have a roster of all the new angels in Heaven.”

“Reckon you might’ve missed this one, Gabe. They’re ours,” said Crowley.

“ _Yours_? You two idiots made a _Seraph_?”

“It appears so,” said Aziraphale. “The Almighty was quite pleased.”

“You’ve...you’ve been to see God?” asked Gabriel, clearly unnerved.

“Oh yes, just got out of a lovely meeting with Her. She had Love’s corporation made specially. Awfully kind of Her, don’t you think?” asked Aziraphale.

“Kind...sure…”

“We have to go now,” said Love. “I’m going to Earth. You should stay here. Don’t try to hurt Aziraphale and Crowley anymore.”

Gabriel just watched stupidly as the three angels boarded the escalator.

On the ride down, Crowley asked. “What do you fancy? Picnic?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe we might all go for a drive,” said Aziraphale.

“Both,” said Love, definitively.

Aziraphale and Crowley smiled with contentment. 

“Both,” they agreed.


End file.
